


Lance Mcclain's Eight Reasons Why

by Delnic



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Broken Team, Death, Happy Ending, M/M, PTSD, Rejection, Same universe, Self Harm, Suicide, Trauma, broken keith, shiro disappeared, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delnic/pseuds/Delnic
Summary: Doesn't matter if you haven't read/watched 13 reasons whyI've just taken the concept and applied it to the Voltron universe. This is spoiler free :)-"Would you like to listen?"Thank god for repeat instructions.The voice seemed to be emanating from the cube. A year or so ago, he might've been surprised. Not his fault Earth was technologically behind."Yes" He responded, his voice gruff. He'd missed out on lunch.He wasn't prepared for what came next, as he stared intently at the small, talking cube with an ignited fascination that'd lay dormant for a long time.- GCSE's stole my time and inspiration so I pronounce this fic dead -





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be surprised if someone hasn't done this already, but the good thing about thirteen reasons why AUs is that every single one of them will be different. Or at least they should vary.
> 
> This is the most I've written all at once, I'm determined to complete this fic. 
> 
> Also, there will be a happy ending. I promise.
> 
> One final point, this takes place after the end of season two, Shiro has disappeared (but he does appear in past memories) but his loss isn't as fresh. This was written before season three's release so I have no idea what the reasoning behind his disappearance was and I'm rolling with a vague idea that he's gone and they've accepted that (not that they're okay about it)

Darkness is freeing. 

It has the ability to swallow everything whole and swamp anything, giving the impression that it had never been there in the first place. At least, complete darkness has that capability. The kind of darkness that comes not in the dead of night but in a closed off room with no windows, light bulbs or cracks in the seams. No possible way for even the tiniest streak of colour to enter. 

It was not the kind of darkness that Keith was enveloped in right now. No, his was the fickle kind. The kind that wasn't actually true. The kind that's actually a shade of grey, not black. It was the only kind he had ever encountered, aside from that one time. 

He'd been with Red, streaming across the vast expanse of space at a casual pace. No set goal to reach, no task to fulfil. Just a calm stroll through the cosmos. He remembered feeling a gentle tug that caused Red to veer right a little. Not to an alarming extent but the force was existent nonetheless. He'd looked over at the source of the pull and that was where he had encountered true darkness. Far away enough from him so that his life wasn't in danger but close enough to make out, was a black hole. 

If he was completely honest, without the pull, he wouldn't have noticed it. There was just a blank space in the distance where no planets or stars dared to go, not that they had a choice either way. It was a gigantic patch of nothingness, where not even light could be found. Not because it was obstructed but because once it reached the ominous hole, it'd be trapped. The gravitational force was just that strong. 

It was then he understood what true darkness was. True darkness was overpowering and anything that it smothered would be subject to its ruling, becoming nothing. 

So Keith knew that the so-called darkness that had taken over his room wasn't _real_ darkness. It didn't have the power to grant him his most desperate wish - to become nothing. 

Sometimes, he would wonder if that's what Lance wanted; if that was why Lance did what he did. Did he want to become nothing too? It made sense. Everything added up. But, unfortunately, he didn't become nothing. Because nothingness did not include a dead body and a memory. Lance was still something, even if that _something_ wasn't a living, breathing thing. That was why Keith wouldn't, why he couldn't, follow suit. Because he'd still be that _something_ in everyone's memory, wreaking pain in their every waking moment, just like Lance was to him. 

_Knock, knock._

As Keith raised his dreary head to face the door, it felt like he was lifting a heavy weight, a very heavy weight. He didn't want to get up. 

"Hey... Keith" 

He wasn't going to get up.

"I... uh... brought you some cookies. Same recipe as the one's that we used for the wormhole... yeah. But softer this time" 

He felt like he owed it to Hunk to get up. 

"I mean, they won't break your teeth..."

But everyone owed everyone. 

"...I'll just leave them out here"

And it was just a trivial act of kindness

"Also, the package... it was here before me"

That Keith had never asked for.

"Bye"

-_-_-_-_-

"Paladins"

Keith groaned with exhaustive enthusiasm, more for himself if anything. He knew no one was going to witness his displeasure at the abrupt waking call regardless. 

"Please make your ways to the central hub of the castle, it's time things got moving"

Again, Keith didn't want to get up. But this wasn't a trivial matter, despite whatever conclusions his late night existential contemplations may have brought him to. Not that he was about to spend more energy than necessary on whatever activity Allura had finally planned. The intercom silence had almost been deafening up until now. He found the irony amusing, in a somewhat toxic, fake sense. It was the kind of appreciation for humour that brought about spite. Common among those left these days.

After shaking his groggy head in a futile attempt to rid his sleepless repercussions, Keith shrugged on his jacket and was good to go. He'd stopped seeing the point in changing for bed a while ago. He walked towards his door, his steps wavering as he did so, before inevitably having to take a moment to recover from the dizziness that had ensued. He allowed himself more than the time he required to take a breather and opened the door. 

"...shit..."

He mumbled quietly to himself and simply listened as Hunk's cookies skid across the hallway. But that wasn't all that heard. A subtle thunk was among the skittering of the edible blue disks. 

_"The package... it was here before me"_

His friend's words surfaced from the drowsy smog that cloaked his mind during these early hours. Sure enough, a rectangular package was waiting for him, now lopsided, just outside his door. With no regard to the spillage of cookies _(Hunk's fault really)_ , he brought the package closer to his face for an inspection. It was haphazardly wrapped in paper that matched the castle's white aesthetic and, with a slight shake, he identified that there were numerous objects inside. 

"Paladins. I called ten dobashs ago and only Coran is here and he's not even paladin" 

He could hear it, that small attempt at a light hearted joke. 

"I'd rather not be kept waiting" The intercom transmission ended.  
_I'd rather not be waking._

With a huff and a sigh (or multiple to be more accurate), Keith eventually made it to the designated meeting point, only a few ticks or so ahead of Hunk apparently, who looked just as devastatingly sleep deprived. As did Pidge but, to his understanding, Pidge had never been much of a fan of sleep in the first place. 

"It has been brought to my attention that we're almost ready to start bonding as a team again" Allura announced. To Keith, the news was rather... peculiar.  
"We haven't, understandably, since the event-"  
"Since Lance died" Hunk cut Allura short. His words were like knives slicing into the volatile atmosphere as if it were soft cheese.  
"Err, yes, since..." Allura faltered, looking to the ground for a moment before returning a hard stare to the three paladins before her.  
"Since Lance died" She repeated, it sounded like she was saying it to herself if anything. "So, I wanted to give you time to mentally prepare yourselves. We can't keep at this forever. The universe still needs Voltron and _we_ need Voltron to ensure that we can reach Earth without any... complications" She explained.

"Like leading a legion of hostile aliens right to the Garrison" Keith added for no particular reason other than to be heard. He wanted to be nothing yet continued to contradict himself with similar actions as these. Maybe it was because he knew that, no matter how hard he'd try, he'd always be someone.

"Which the Garrison are pretty adamant about not existing" Pidge continued. Keith couldn't get a gauge on the girl. Hadn't been able to for a while.

Hunk remained silent. 

"So we're at a conclusion. We'll begin to bond as a team once we are ready" Allura surveyed her audience. But before she could bring the meeting to a close, Keith had something else to say.

"How will we know when we're ready?" He asked, the woman's phrasing had piqued his interest. 

"You'll know soon enough" Coran was the one who responded to Keith's query, a strange look in his eyes that the boy couldn't quite place a finger on. He would've furthered his inquiry, however, the meeting was concluded shortly after and he soon found himself in his room, once again. He spent most of his days within those confines.

In the beginning, he'd taken to excessive training. A twisted mantra would ring in his head: _if I'd been better, this wouldn't have happened._ The phrase was crude, for what did "better" encompass exactly? He'd knew it was useless. Lance wasn't gone because Keith wasn't physically strong enough. If it was even strength to begin with, Lance was gone because Keith wasn't mentally strong enough. Yet training was the only self-improvement method he had ever known. So he'd done that, worked himself day and night until he could work no more. Until he'd lost more weight than he had built muscle; lost so much hair from stress he could knit a fleece and got to the point of exhaustion where all systems just _failed_. It hadn't been a fun experience for him nor Hunk, the one who had found him. 

In the end, with an abrupt epiphany, Keith had realised that was he was doing was not only pointless but also detrimental to his own health. Not that he was improving much by lazing around all day, moping in an artificially induced darkness. 

It didn't matter how athletically capable he'd been. He had always known that. He just hadn't known what to do with himself, he still didn't. 

But now he was sat upright and hunched a little over a rectangular box now studded with questionable cookie fractals. This was a change.

With cautious, dainty movements, he gently unfolded the packaging, making as little sound as possible. After much deliberation regarding what the parcel could contain exactly, he came up clueless and resided to simply opening the case. The case was reminiscent of a shoe box with a black/blue theme. In fact, there wasn't a doubt in Keith's mind that it was a shoe box, for he remembered it. He'd seen it last time he'd visited Lance's room, a long time ago. Why Lance would've purchased a shoe box (he couldn't have picked it up from Earth during that small amount of time they had between departure and lion investigation) was beyond him, yet it seemed like a very _Lance_ thing to own. 

After his brief ponderings, he lifted the lid from the box with the same care he exhibited when unwrapping, revealing the mysterious contents. It reminded him of something...

_"Hey Coran" Lance strolled over to his orange haired friend but lacked his usual confident sway. Not that Coran appeared to notice. He was too busy adjusting some wires within a compartment in the wall Keith had never known existed._

_Keith was about to move on, should've moved on really. He'd just been walking down the adjacent corridor coincidently yet now he felt as though he was prying on something private. Lance's subtle change in attitude unnerved him._

_"Ah, hello Lance" Coran acknowledged his presence. "Would you mind just holding this little wire for me a tick?" He motioned to something within the wall._

_"Yeah sure" He did so. "Hey, um, Coran?"_

_"Yes, Lance?" The fellow asked, still engrossed in whatever he was engaged in. Keith felt very uncomfortable watching from a distance._

_"You know these..." Lance dug into his pocket and retrieved what looked like a faintly glowing blue cube. "... things I'm borrowing?"_

_He really should get going._

Inside the box were cubes, faintly glowing. They lit his face with a warm yellow shade, expelling a small area of his fake darkness. He thought he had recognised the objects except they were different from the ones he remembered seeing in Lance's hand. Either way, it was still a strange coincidence. 

With a slow and steady hand, Keith lifted one of the cubes from the box. Upon closer inspection, he noticed something engraved on each face; a number. "Five..."

"Eight..."

"Three..."

"Six..."

He lay down each cube beside him, reciting each number in turn. A mechanical process he wasn't entirely sure why he was partaking in. It was absurdly soothing. Although, his pattern was disrupted as he reached for the next cube.

Under his touch, a brilliant red flooded over the object, obscuring the original colour until there was no trace of yellow remaining. 

_  
"L...Lance?"_

_Red. Crimson. Flowing scarlet._

__

"Wo--- ... l-k- .. ...-en?"

When did his heart beat get so fast? _Nevermind_.

He turned his attention to the luminescent object in his arms, pulsating with an ominous... red. A voice had sounded, a robotic voice. He hadn't quite caught what it had said.

"Would you like to listen?"

 _Thank god for repeat instructions._ The voice seemed to be emanating from the cube. A year or so ago, he might've been surprised. Not his fault Earth was technologically behind. 

"Yes" He responded, his voice gruff. He'd missed out on lunch.

He wasn't prepared for what came next, as he stared intently at the small, talking cube with an ignited fascination that'd lay dormant for a long time. 

 

**"Hey... My name's Lance Mcclain. You g-"**

A loud crash. Deafening in the deadly silence. Heavy breathing. Also emphasised by the lack of sound prior. The cold dead atmosphere. The cold dreaded sweat. The feverish hand. Apprehensively tapping damp eyes. The quiet tears. They were the loudest. 

"...f-fuck..."

He caved in on himself, earthquake like shivers tearing down his spine as he hugged his legs close with a vice like grip. The sobs came soon after the initial shock, rattling in his chest with every ragged breath.

"I... c-can't..."

That voice. That voice he couldn't wipe from his mind no matter how many times he'd bashed his head against the wall. Even when blood had splattered, creating grotesque patterns on the blank panels again and again. The obnoxious laugh that had always seemed to follow his every other sentence. It was louder than ever, despite not even making a sound. 

He pried his eyes open and found his vision blurred. Although it didn't stop him from making out the red glow.

_  
"B-buddy?"_

_Pale. Drained. Washed out.  
_

 

It took him quite some time to gather his bearings and, even then, he simply sat and stared at the cursed object that had caused the trauma. Actually, no. It hadn't caused the metaphorical pain that seared through his brain like a freshly smelted sword, piping hot. No, the contents had just allowed him to relive a memory he'd never want to forget but never wanted to remember. 

After what felt like a thousand Vargas had passed, Keith stood and made his way to the red light that disrupted the greyscale hues he resided in. A splash of very much uninvited colour. Instead of returning it to the place he'd thrown it from, he slumped down next to it. It wasn't until at least five dobashs had passed did he dare uncurl his arms from his knees and bring the cube to this face once again. 

"Do you want to listen?"

"...yes"

He wouldn't throw it this time. 

**"Hey... my name's Lance Mcclain. You guys already know that of course, but I wonder sometimes if you guys _know_ me, you know?" **

It was him, speaking to Keith. Or perhaps not, his audience was plural. Not that Keith picked up on that minor detail, too infatuated with the concept of having a long overdue conversation with his dear friend.

**"Well, you will after this. For the record, I'm dead. You guys probably already know that too"**

"... I do" Keith mumbled subconsciously, staring intently at the item he protectively cradled in his arms. His posture was akin to that of a new mother.

**"But there are two things you guys don't _know._ One of those things is what on earth - well not earth but yeah - I'm doing, was doing, recording these things when alive. You also don't _know_ me"**

"I... I kno-knew you. Of course I did..." He muttered, confusion displayed plainly on his face, painted ruby by the light.

**"So, here's how it is I guess. I don't know if you guys managed to count these before tapping this one, but there's going to be eight. No, wait, there is eight. Is. And each one is dedicated to a person.**

**You are going to listen to each one of these in order. Then you'll pass these on to the person who comes after your cube thingy. I don't know what this is called, Altean is mind boggling man"**

It was a joke, sort of. Lance had made a joke. But Keith didn't laugh. 

**"And you gotta listen to all of them"**

Not because Lance wasn't a funny guy.

**"And do as I say"**

But because of how he delivered the joke.

**"Or these will be destroyed remotely by a trusted person. Thank God for fancy ass alien tech, man"**

He was so... depressive. His tone, his lack of enthusiasm. Every word that was emitted by the box-shaped device was laced with it, the complete utter absence of Lance. They were Lance's words coming from Lance's mouth yet they sounded so stale and unlike _Lance._

**"So yeah. Each one is dedicated to a person but there's only... five listeners? No... four. Sadly four. I... yeah. Each one is dedicated to a person but there are more recorder thingies than listeners. Well, some of you have repeats. More incentive to listen all the way through I guess"**

_What did Lance have to say about me?_

**"And the only reason you're listening right now is because... you're one of the reasons why"**

"No..." He whispered.

**"One of the reasons why I... killed myself"**

"I... I already knew that Lance" Keith said dismally and let out a defeated sigh, resting his forehead on the cube's harsh edge.

"I already know"

_-_-_-_

He actually woke up on time that morning. Well, he'd been awake at least. Sleep had ran from him all through the night after he'd told the recording to stop. He had just sat there, curled up with soundless tears streaming down his face. It was too much, too much for one night. 

When morning came, he moved not because it was morning but because he now had a purpose.

With his body aching and cracking in protest, he sluggishly moved into a standing position. From there he was essentially ready to go, not having gotten changed for bed like usual. Although perhaps his hair could do with a brush but he didn't care if it stuck up at odd angles and had the general appearance of a rat's nest. He didn't really care about himself in general, or his duty at this point.

Well, actually, that wasn't entirely true.

He cared enough to continue living and he cared enough to be around to attempt Voltron when the time came. But he didn't care enough to live life as a fully functioning, social human being. 

With the reality evaluation out of the way, Keith left his room in search of a certain ginger male who might just have the answers he sought. 

"Hi there Keith, fancied a morning stroll this fine day?" Coran asked innocently enough. Despite everything that had happened, the man always kept up a cheery facade. 

"You could call it that" Keith responded as he walked over to the pod he'd found the man working on. "I have a question about some tech" He might as well get straight to the point.

"Is that so? Well, I'd be happy to help" The innocence was still there but Keith couldn't help but notice a subtle shift in Coran's calm posture.

"Yeah, do you know what this is?" Keith brought out the causes of his miseries last night, the red cube. As he expected, the man's face contorted upon seeing the object and his attitude transformed from that of a jolly gentleman to a more serious, aware one. 

"Yes, yes I do" 

"Would you by any chance know why something like this turned up at my door yesterday" Keith inquired while shifting his weight. He meant business.

"Yes, I would" Coran was keeping his answers short and curt.

"Could you tell me?" Keith asked, his tone conveying the fact that he didn't want to beat around the bush.

"I think you already know, Keith" There was a certain gravity tied to his words and it was at this point Keith noticed how dark the atmosphere had gotten.

"I don't know _shit_ " He responded snarkily. "Last night, I heard a voice that I never thought I'd ever hear again. And that voice was telling me that I didn't know him" The venom laced in his every word could practically be tasted by the man who opposed him.

"Keith, let me clarify something, how much have you listened to?" Coran was calm and well mannered.

"I don't know. Maybe the first five dobashs?" 

"Keith" Coran placed a weighted hand upon his shoulder. "I'm only going to say this once. Go back to your room and listen to them. Listen to all of them and don't talk to anyone about them until you have. Not because other's may not know but because _you_ don't know what they do" Coran finished with an authoritative look in his eyes that was almost threatening.

Keith shrugged off the arm on his shoulder and settled on glowering at Coran before leaving. He definitely had the answers. But he wasn't going to give them to him.

Before he went on to leave with an exaggerated huff of frustration, Keith gave the man a solid stare. "It's difficult"

"I know" Coran responded, not even looking at the boy walking away from him as he returned to his tinkering. 

So now he was back in his room, lay on his bed, staring at the glowing object he held a mere few inches from his nose. Its radiance was muted now since the lights were on. He'd also took it upon himself to salvage some of the cookies that the mice hadn't yet nibbled in the corridor. It was a change. Possibly a healthy change. 

Quite some time passed before he dared to resume his listening. He spent it mentally prepping and psyching himself. Eventually, it got the point where he just gave in to his curiosity and instructed the device to "play".

"Playing from 173 ticks"

_That little time had passed?_

**"...But none of you are the first reason. No, the person this one is dedicated to may never hear what I have to say"**

Keith's heart was caught in his throat. Relief and fear mingled in his mind. "But what could _he_ have done..."

**"No, this one goes out to the one I've called the Kickstarter. You know, one of those things that put everything into motion. Yeah, this one is dedicated to my old pal Iverson from the Garrison"**

"...What?" This was completely unexpected, Keith couldn't have fathomed that the insufferable man would've made it onto the list, nevermind the first reason. Sure, he wasn't a nice guy, not by a long shot, but he couldn't imagine what he could've done to _kickstart_ such a terrible chain of events.

 **"Two of you already know this, but for the sake of the other half of you guys, here's a bit of context"** A prolonged pause. **"The only reason I got into the Garrison as a fighter pilot was because Keith dropped out. Keith, if this is you, thanks, I guess? I mean yeah, thanks, but no thanks"**

_-_-_-_

"Might I remind you, the only reason you're even here is because the best in your class had a disciplinary issue!" The monster of a man, once again, bellowed in his face.  
_"Yes, remind me, for the second time - this week!"_ Was what he'd like to say but knew better not to. From experience.

"Yessir" The tan boy responded, his usual tall stature seemingly impossibly small in the face of the man towering over him.

"See to it that I don't have to remind you again!" With that, the man strode away, around the corner and out of sight.

Lance sighed and turned to face his partner in crime with a sly smile to distract from his glistening eyes. 

"I really don't get that, why he always has a go at you but I seem to get away scot-free" Hunk wondered aloud to his friend. They'd attempted to sneak out, again, and failed miserably, again. They had a success rate of 74 percent, according to Pidge. This time, the oh so sweet scent of the outdoors was wafting over them, so tantalising close, yet they'd been caught and knew, also from experience, that the cameras were now trained on them even if Iverson had left (who was probably still just around the corner as well). 

"I mean, not that I'm complaining. I'd rather we didn't do this just about every week personally. 74 percent is just not the kind of rate I'm fond of" Hunk continued with his ramblings. His worries and complaints didn't really matter to Lance, he never physically forced his friend to come along. If he really wanted to, he could follow Pidge's example and simply refuse. Although, the kid was never there when they came back after a failed attempt. Maybe that was why Hunk always insisted on coming along to change Lance's point of view.

"But I just don't get why he always has to bring that up. He's like a broken record" His friend was still rambling. Lance knew, of course, that he meant well. But it only worsened things. 

"Hunk" 

"And th- huh, yeah?" The boy stopped and turned his attention fully towards Lance.

"...Last one back's a rotten egg!" He cheered before darting around the corner at breakneck speed. Sure enough, Iverson was there as expected, a blur in Lance's peripheral vision but he was there, nonetheless. 

"H-Hey! No fair you got a head start! And I can't run as fast as you! You're so childish!" He could hear his friends complaints in the distance, getting quieter and quieter as he sped on.

_-_-_-_

**"You see, when someone hammers a point on your head over and over and over and over again, your head starts to get a bit sore. And eventually, it causes damage... damage which can't be fixed by just putting on a plaster. I didn't really realise at the time just what exactly it was doing to me but I know now that it was laying down the foundations for my future with Voltron. More specifically, my issues with Voltron"**

Keith didn't really know what he was feeling as he listened to the recording. He'd long since reeled from the shock, however, he didn't think he could ever normalise hearing his friend's voice listing his 'reasons why'. 

**"It built a wall that I couldn't tear down. This idea that I'd always be second best, that the only reason I had anything was because the person above me had failed for one reason or another. Otherwise, without them, I'd be nothing. Without Keith, I'd be nothing"**

His name. The first time he'd heard it that night, his breathing had hitched and everything seemed to stop, the recording being the only important aspect of his world. He felt something now.

**"Let me change that actually. If it weren't for Keith, I'd be something"**

It was dread, he was feeling dread. 

**"And that sounds horrible and I'm sorry Keith. Not your fault, it's Iverson's. Not that this is your recording though, Keith. So you're not completely free, yet"**

The ambient buzz cut out short after Lance finished his sentence.

"Recording complete. Would you like to listen again?"

Silence. 

"Recording complete. Would you li-"

"No."

Blue exploded across the cube, decimating the previous colour in a matter of seconds, emitting a cool glow. A cold glow. 

_  
"Lance... c-come on now..."_

_Crisp. Frigid. Ice cold touch.  
_

_-_-_-_

"Ah hello... Keith" Coran's tone was cheerful at first but seemed to taper down as he realised just who exactly he was talking to. This time, Keith had found him tampering with a light in one of the hallways, stood on a ladder.

"I didn't realise that needed fixing" Keith commented, his tone devoid of emotion.

"It doesn't" Coran responded matter-of-factly, as though what he was doing was completely normal and self-explanatory. Keith decided to dismiss it and took out the box of cubes instead. 

"I... I already know what I've done"

Coran didn't respond, continuing to dismantle the light. 

"I know it's my fault"

At that, Coran did reply. "Keep listening Keith"

"I SAID I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT" He shouted. His voice echoed down the hallways. He had no doubt others had heard him. They wouldn't do anything though. 

Coran pursed his lips and climbed down from his perch on the ladder. Once he was level with Keith, he didn't come any closer. _Keeping his distance_ , Keith figured. 

"It's not just your fault Keith, keep listening" 

A heavy silence flooded into the air between them and the two simply watched one another, unmoving. Coran to evaluate Keith's attitude and possible next move, Keith to settle the barrage of emotions that had assaulted him. Neither ended up speaking before their meeting was brought to an untimely close through the means of the intercom. 

"Paladins, please make your ways to the deck" Allura's voice resonated through the hallways of the castle. 

_-_-_-_

"We have a diplomatic meeting with the "DackRacks", an airborne alien race which is known for their temperamental attitudes regarding Voltron" Allura explained as an image of what was presumably a DackRack materialised as a hologram before them.

The creature was elegant, to say the least. Such a vulgar name far from suited the angelic appearances of the species. Its body was sleek and looked to be a silver colour from what Keith could make out underneath the blue hue of the hologram. But the body of the creature wasn't the most mesmerising factor, no, the beautiful wings were. The image shifted between showing the group the creature with its wings drawn to displayed, capturing the ginormous white feathery span from talon to talon. It was holy. 

"So, I know this is a rough time but we need to consider our duties. To be quite frank" Allura used the Earthly expression as though it was native. Keith wondered which one of the paladins she'd picked it up from. "You all look terribly scruffy"

It was at that point, Keith actually evaluated the state of him and his fractured team. 

He had already known he wasn't a nice sight. He'd taken to showering up to once a week and rarely spent much time with the others so he hadn't had to worry about his presentation or odour. He hadn't paid any attention to any mirrors for a while either but he guessed he didn't look much better than his fellows at the meeting.

Pidge's hair had grown and Keith speculated that it would've given her a more feminine appearance if it weren't for the state it was in. More than a few stray strands (he'd even go so far to say stray chunks) jutted out at odd angles and visible knots gave the overall shape a jaunty look. A lot of it had grown to cover her face as well, obscuring her expressions for the most part.

Meanwhile, Hunk had taken to cutting his hair when necessary, or so it seemed. However, his signature bandana no longer kept his bangs from his eyes and instead hung limply around his neck, lacking purpose. As for everyone's clothes, no one appeared to care enough to iron. 

"...note taken" Pidge spoke up after a prolonged silence filled with surveying gazes.

"Well, I'm pretty nifty with a pair of scissors myself so I don't mind popping around, free of charge for my favourite paladins!" Coran announced light-heartedly.

"That's true" Hunk confirmed with a small smile.

It was at this small inclination of happy normalcy that Keith was brought to wonder whether or not they'd ever recover and live like they used to. He dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had entered his mind.

_We'll never live like before without those two._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I'll get the next chapter up, next weekish? This one took me a night and a morning to write (including spell check etc. don't have a beta. Just say if I've missed anything).
> 
> Also, I hope I'm depicting the trauma well enough. I've not lost someone to suicide personally, gotten close but it's never happened.


End file.
